


the next best thing

by setgo



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Canon Compliant, Found Family, Gen, Oneshot, You are my dad... you're my dad! Boogie woogie woogie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setgo/pseuds/setgo
Summary: "From what I heard before this whole thing he was a real quiet kid. Last I heard they're still searching for a school that'll accept him, good luck with that I say. Such a shame. And so young, too, only 16," the woman gives a dramatic swirl of her remaining coffee, "Guess that goes to show you can't judge on first appearances."Sojiro pauses. Well.It's not like he can just leave things at that. He gives a final twist of the washcloth inside the mug, looking up at the woman."What'd you say this kid's name was?"Sojiro Sakura constantly goes in over his head.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Sakura Futaba, Kurusu Akira & Sakura Sojiro, Sakura Futaba & Sakura Sojiro
Comments: 22
Kudos: 496





	the next best thing

The kid hasn't left her room in a week.

Sojiro doesn't know if this is normal.

Okay, he knows it's not, Sojiro's not stupid, but part of him is still hoping it's just a short-term thing, that as long as he stays by her side she'll - _she'll -_

He doesn't know, exactly. In those first few days, after _Isshiki_ became _Sakura_ , Futaba had at least been willing to see a group of doctors, but all they had was talk. _Post traumatic stress disorder_ and _long-term psychological effects,_ terms that left a sinking feeling in Sojiro's stomach and a shrinking Futaba clinging to his sleeve.

Therapists and psychiatrists were a no-go, nowadays, Futaba wouldn't leave the house, and if Sojiro called one in she wouldn't even leave her _room._ A kind-eyed doctor had placed a hand on Sojiro's shoulder as he began to escort them out the house through a halfhearted apology.

"The best thing you can do right now," they say, "is be there for her."

Sojiro nods, stiffly but sincerely.

 _How am I supposed to do that_ , he thinks, wiping down the already spotless surfaces of Leblanc. With his SIU savings he'd bought the back alley space and opened up a café, even though he could only make the two things. He could almost hear Wakaba's laughter, _you? Running a café? C'mon, Sojiro, all you know is coffee!_

Which isn't true, he also knows curry.

It's something to do, at least, and remote enough rarely anybody bothers him. Best to keep his head down, keep Futaba safe.

The rotary phone, another thing he knows Wakaba would tease him about, rings and interrupts his thoughts. He places down an empty glass on the drying rack and picks up, "This is Cafe Leblanc."

" _Sojiroooo_!" Futaba's voice is so loud he can practically hear it down the block, " _it's all wrong!_ "

"What - Futaba?" He glances around Leblanc. Empty, thankfully, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

" _The processor I asked for, it's the wrong model! It won't even fit in the case!_ "

He sighs, thankful it was just a computer thing, that she hadn't tripped and broke her leg, or _worse_ , "Alright, alright. Just tell me what you need and I can pick it up before dinner."

As Futaba launches into a lengthy explanation on the specifics of GPU and RAM and processing speed, he realizes. Sojiro would do _anything_ for her, anything she asks for. But he's not stupid enough to think that fancy electronics and expensive software is going to help anything.

But what else can he do?

* * *

"Oh, it's just awful. _Assault,_ and from what I heard before this incident he was a real quiet kid," the woman gives a dramatic swirl of her remaining coffee, "Guess that goes to show you can't judge on first appearances."

Sojiro gives a non committal "hm" at the woman's story, hoping she'll get the hint and stop talking. She's become something of a regular, though he can't remember her name, marching in and regaling an unwilling audience of the latest gossip and scandal about people Sojiro doesn't and will never care about.

This time it's about an old roommate in some backwater town and her delinquent kid, or something or another.

"It's a shame, really. _Assault,_ of all things, but if the courts ruled it... I guess it's good to keep troublemakers like him off the street."

"Hm."

"Last I heard they're _still_ searching for a school that'll accept him, good luck with that I say."

"Hm."

"And so young, too, only 16!"

Sojiro pauses. _Well._

It's not like he can just leave things at that. He gives a final twist of the washcloth inside the mug, looking up at the woman.

"What'd you say this kid's name was?"

* * *

Kurusu doesn't seem like a troublemaker, at least nothing like the full blown _urabancho_ Sojiro had been warned about. Though it's not like anyone's going to charge in the front gates with a motorcycle, coat twirling in the wind, spiked baseball bat on his shoulder.

Still, he's quieter than Sojiro expected. Curly black hair, glasses that hide his eyes, a slump to his shoulders of someone who knows he's lost.

Sojiro almost feels bad for him. _Almost._

"You look like you've got something you want to say."

The kid nervously adjusts his glasses, "It's… big."

 _It's a dump_ , Sojiro knows he means. But he's not about to let a stranger, let alone a delinquent stranger, anywhere near Futaba.

"It's on you to keep up the rest."

Kurusu stares blankly at the filthy attic, taking in the city of dust and dingy boxes. The mattress isn't even on a bedframe, Sojiro meant to get one, but Futaba had called last week asking for some ultra-rare boxset only found in Akihabara, so Sojiro hadn't had the time.

"I'll be leaving after I lock up each day. You'll be alone at night, but don't do anything stupid. I'll throw you out if you cause any trouble."

It's not a great idea to leave a teenager on probation alone, but it's not like he's going to set up a baby monitor just so some troublemaking kid will keep quiet. Sojiro got into a decent bit of trouble when he was a teenager, but he also hadn't been on probation. _Hopefully_ the kid's smart enough to know that; Sojiro really doesn't have the energy to bother with reporting any nonsense.

"Now then, I got the gist of your situation. You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured, then sued you. Right?"

Expulsion and probation seem a little harsh to Sojiro, especially since Kurusu was stopping a much worse crime, but it's not like Sojiro can do anything about it. It's a good lesson, either way. Kid should've kept his head down, stayed out of trouble.

_(We regret to inform you-)_

"That's what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults. You did injure him, yeah? And now that you've got a criminal record, you were expelled from your school."

Kurusu's parents had seemed more annoyed than anything else. A delinquent son causing all this trouble, they had let Sojiro take care of their kid with surprisingly little questioning. Maybe they were just desperate.

"In other words, your parents got rid of you for being a pain in the ass." The words come out harsher than he intended, and the kid shrinks into himself.

Sojiro gives a few more words and walks down the stairs, pulling out pots and the necessary ingredients for dinner. Midway through stirring the roux, he hears loud bumps and shuffling, sending small plumes of dust down to the first floor. Sojiro looks up in disbelief.

 _Causing trouble already?_ He thinks, gruffly, marching up the stairs and expecting to see the old storeroom torn to bits. Instead, he finds the kid hauling a dusty stack of newspapers to the side.

"I heard you making all sorts of noise up here, but I didn't think you were actually cleaning." Sojiro casts an appraising glance around the old attic. The kid's made surprising progress in the short while, even getting most of the dust off the battered desk, "...Actually, the place doesn't look too bad."

The kid looks sheepish at that, of all things.

"Once you're finished with all that, I've got dinner ready."

Sojiro watches silently as the kid tucks into his curry, a flicker of ravenous hunger behind those eyes.

Well, it's all he can do.

* * *

Futaba's gone outside.

Futaba had walked from the house _all the way_ to Leblanc.

Futaba's sitting at the countertop, complaining that Sojiro's coffee sucks, in front of a _total stranger_. (Okay, the kid isn't a stranger, but he might as well be to Futaba.)

It's Wakaba's… _anniversary,_ and Futaba's actually sitting _here._ With Sojiro. At Leblanc.

_...What the hell?_

The kid and Futaba become fast friends, thank any and every god Sojiro can remember. Which isn't a lot, mind, but apparently it's enough. It's been less than a month since they met, but Sojiro if didn't know better he would've sworn they were siblings their whole lives. She drags him along all around Tokyo, and the kid provides with surprisingly little complaint. One time, Akira ruffles her hair with a mischievous grin and she yells, jumping onto his shoulders and sending the duo toppling onto the floor.

The cat scrambles away from his sunbathing spot, yowling loudly in complaint (Sojiro's given up getting the cat to only stay upstairs.)

Futaba even settles into the kid's tight-knit social circle, laughing and smiling more than Sojiro has ever seen her. She teases the skinny artist kid, cheers and yells at her TV shows with the rowdy blond boy, laughs alongside the quiet student council president, even lets the twin tailed blonde girl bring her shopping.

Futaba doesn't leave the house without him or one of her friends present, but it's leagues more than Sojiro could have ever even dreamed of. She's so _happy,_ so full of life and excitement.

He's so glad, he doesn't even question it.

* * *

Sojiro's not looking for anything, really. Sojiro is never really _looking_ for trouble, though it always seems to find him one way or another. Futaba room is a lot cleaner than it used to be, though at times that's like comparing a garbage truck to a landfill. And it's not weird for a parent to pick up after their kid's messes, even after he's told her a million times, is it? He just smelled something strange from Futaba's room, no doubt a half eaten cup of instant ramen or stale melonpan and did what anyone would do.

Sojiro sweeps the garbage and sorts the haphazard piles of clothes on the floor, picks up crumpled up papers from her desk and files them back onto her shelves, thinking _really, is it that hard to put things back where she finds them?_

Then it catches his eye.

The card is small, tucked between the pages of an old compendium on Egyptian mythology. He remembers buying it for Futaba, it had cost a pretty penny, but the faint smile it had brought her face had been worth it.

The red and black is unmistakable, fiery logo and bouncing text grabbing Sojiro's attention and strangling it in a chokehold. It's a brief moment of denial, _maybe she's just a fan, maybe it's just a collector's item now,_ before he flips it over.

_Futaba Sakura has committed a great sin of drowning in sloth._

_Thus, we will rob every last bit of your distorted desires._

_The Phantom Thieves of Heart._

Well.

Sojiro stares at the card, still hoping that he'll wake up and it'll all be some weird dream. But the card is real, the Phantom Thieves are real, and Futaba _knows_ them, what if they've _hurt her -_

_(Is this why she changed so suddenly? She's made friends, is going outside, but-)_

Does the kid know? The kid _has_ to know, right? is he in trouble too? Are they hurting both of them, threatening them?

There's no way Sojiro can leave things like this.

* * *

Turns out _they're_ the Phantom Thieves _,_ because of course they are. And not just the wanted criminals that the government's been chasing their tail after, but the kid is their _ringleader._ ( _Wakaba was murdered, Wakaba was murdered, Wakaba -_ ) a repeating chant echoes through Sojiro's mind. And as much as he tries, he can't quiet it down.

He'd had a suspicion, in those early days. But he had brushed it off as paranoia and grief talking, he had a job to do, a kid to take care of. So he ignored it. (Like that did any good.)

Now all this talk of "cognitive psience" and "the metaverse", all of it's real, not just some theory that Wakaba had tried endlessly explaining to him, and _his kids_ are waist-deep in it.

 _So much for keeping your head down,_ Sojiro sighs. But it's not like he's going to turn them in or something stupid like that, Futaba would never forgive him.

He'd never forgive _himself._

* * *

That detective kid is up to something. 

The kids are up to something, too, but every time Sojiro opens his mouth to ask, Futaba insists that everything's going to plan, that they have things under control.

The thieves meet at Leblanc, much to Sojiro's chagrin, barely staying a few minutes before rushing out to god-knows-where. But it's better than meeting in some dangerous back alley or subway station where they could get caught or hurt, so he obliges. Sometimes Sojiro can get a cup of coffee or a plate of curry in front of them, but then they're out the door again.

Afterwards, Akira and Futaba come slinking back, the cat perched on one of their shoulders or sitting comfortably in their arms. 

Sometimes they bring more of their friends, usually the too-skinny artist kid. They sit down at the countertop, gulping down curry and water (not coffee, especially not this late). Despite the lingering feeling of dread growing in Sojiro's stomach, it's a bizarre sense of normalcy. Family dinners, if he even dares call them that, are a long-gone facet of the past.

It's the least he can do, really. And at least it provides _some_ small comfort to Sojiro's nerves.

One night, the two kids are flanked by the detective, of all people. Maybe it shouldn't be as big a surprise as it is, considering how often the detective kid stops for coffee.

"Pardon my intrusion, but Kurusu-kun insisted I come." Akechi Goro has an unsettling falsity to his smile, but at least he's polite about it.

Sojiro looks over at Akira, who flashes a deadpan thumbs up, "He said he didn't have any food in the fridge."

He shrugs. The kid's weird, but it's not too much trouble to set out an extra plate. Even if the detective prince is planning something.

"I want a soda!" Futaba jumps onto a seat, spinning one of the chairs as she shoves a spoon into the curry.

"Not this late," Sojiro places a glass of water in front of her, Futaba pouting all the while.

Akira pats her on the back jokingly, slowly making his way through his portion. Morgana paws at Akira's leg, probably saying something (and isn't that another thing Sojiro never thought he'd say, the cat _talks_ ). It, _he,_ looks up at Sojiro with bright blue eyes, meowing something else.

Akira gets from his seat and sets up the cat's food, the expensive wet kind, since the damn thing is so stubborn he'd rather starve than eat anything else. Sojiro had told the kid he wouldn't pay for it, but he'd seen the exact brand at the grocery store when he was grocery shopping and it was on sale, so it was only good sense he'd get it this time.

"Thank you for the meal," Akechi smiles, "Again, I'm sorry for the trouble."

"You kids are going to eat me out of house and home, I just know it." Sojiro grunts, ladling an extra spoonful of curry on the detective kid's plate.

Shock spreads on the kid's face, the first emotion that isn't lukewarm pleasantry.

"My - my apologies -" He stammers.

"I'm joking. Eat whatever you like. You probably need it."

* * *

The kid hasn't left his room in a couple days, now.

Sojiro doesn't know the specifics, not really. Futaba and the kid had sat him down with a vague, ping-ponging explanation of "palaces" and "personas" and "treasures" that left Sojiro's head spinning. He suspected it was partially on purpose, the vagueness of it all. Can't have the information beaten out of you if you don't have it in the first place.

He nearly had a damn heart attack once he heard the news, _the leader of the Phantom Thieves had committed -_

Sojiro had dropped the newly-washed plates on the floor, sending ceramic pieces and a loud shatter all across the floor. _The leader of the Phantom Thieves, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, we're sorry, Mr. Sakura, but Wakaba Isshiki -_

\- and a few hours later the kid was standing in the doorway, propped up by Sae Niijima on one shoulder, of all people. The kid gave an exhausted grin and a thumbs up.

"It worked," he had said, before nearly collapsing onto the floor.

Later, Sojiro would tell them it was a stupid plan. Too many unknowns, too risky, he could have _died,_ and then what?! If he had known about it, he would've stopped it.

(That's probably why they didn't tell him.)

But now, he's in over his head. Sojiro knows this, has _known_ this from the second he signed Futaba's paperwork. But he can't just leave him there.

He doesn't bother flipping the sign to open as he enters Leblanc, instead heading straight up the stairs into Akira's room. The kid's lying, face first, on his mattress atop the crates. _He really needs to get the kid a proper bed,_ Sojiro idly thinks.

The kid adjusts his glasses, looking up blearily at Sojiro's looming form, "Good morning."

"It's nearly noon," Sojiro replies curtly, "aren't you supposed to be hanging out with your friends?" Most of the _hangouts_ that Akira has slipped out too _,_ he's realized, have just been a cover up for _Phantom Thief business._

Akira fumbles for his phone, checking the time, "Yeah. We're getting close."

Close to _what_ , exactly, Sojiro's not really sure. "Well, you better eat something before you leave."

Akira nods and slides off his bed, the cat jumps off the mattress and onto the floor, meowing more instructions all the while. Sojiro steps down the staircase and into the kitchen, spooning out the curry onto a plate.

_The best thing you can do._

He slides a plate onto the countertop. Gives an approving nod as the kid, hood up, cat peeking out of his bag, slinks out the door.

"Stay safe." He calls out.

_Is be there for them._

**Author's Note:**

> (akira and futaba voice) You are our dad... you're our dad! Boogie woogie woogie.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and I'm always open to questions or ideas either here, my tumblr, or my twitter! Thank you for reading.


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